


tentang semesta api dan darah

by magma_maiden



Series: heartless, dragonless, sunless [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Naruto
Genre: ASOIAF!Naruto, F/M, Female Senju Hashirama, Female Uchiha Izuna, Gen, Lore Snippets - Dragonless, Pre-Relationship, Targaryen!Uchiha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 00:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magma_maiden/pseuds/magma_maiden
Summary: her father invites the usurper’s line into their domain, and izuna learns more about the realm forged from fire and blood





	tentang semesta api dan darah

**Author's Note:**

> naruto (c) masashi kishimoto  
> a song of ice and fire (c) george r. r. martin  
> i take no profits from this work
> 
> izuna is 14 here. set a couple years before _beringin_ and _madu_. worldbuilding. byakuren isn’t an oc.

The girl daydreamed about her unfinished embroidery. Three dragons roaring side by side, their wings stretched from east to west. The world shrunk before their might. All men despaired and knelt before them.

She left it this morning on the table beside her bed, after working on it since the sunrise. She only stopped stitching when she ran out of red yarn. Aragunnir was still missing his wings and tail, and she hadn’t started working on Melestetral either. She hadn’t decided what would be in the background; a battlefield would be most suitable, but the amount of details needed—

“Izuna.”

The girl blinked, then glanced to her left. Her father looked at her disapprovingly, his crown glittered under the morning sun. Izuna huffed and smoothed her dark gown, hiding the creases she made when she dashed off from her bedroom. She leaned forward a little to see her older brother gazed at the gates. He had that stupid grin she hated the most.

At this point, that grin would be permanently etched on his face. He’d be uglier by the end of the day.

“Is something bothering you, my princess?”

Izuna looked up, suppressing a sigh. Hoozuki Byakuren had warm looking eyes, the only part of his face that wasn’t as intimidating as his triangular teeth. Her cousins said his appearance was unnerving, but Izuna liked him. The head of Hoozuki clan was also the Realm’s recently inaugurated royal admiral. He had interesting tales from across the seas, past the Kiri Isles and beyond.

“I don’t want them here, Lord Hoozuki,” she mouthed so her father wouldn’t hear.

The towering man gave her a quirky smile. “Why so?”

“Brother.” She rolled her eyes. “Just look at him.”

“He is in that age,” he whispered, dark irises followed her line of sight before returning to the princess.

“What age?”

“To be smitten by an attractive person in his age.”

She could detect a deep laugh behind his reply. Izuna cringed. “I’m okay with Lord Senju being here, but not  _ her _ .”

“Hoozuki,” Tajima’s voice cut them both. “Don’t indulge her. And you,” he turned to his left side, “contain yourself.”

She snickered hearing her brother groaning. Lord Hoozuki retreated to the back, his deep blue attire blended with the tent they were standing underneath. Izuna was yet to understand how politics were played in the Realm, but her instincts said choosing Lord Senju as the Emperor’s Hand is a terrible idea. The current Sandlord fit the position better, she thought. She was only recently allowed into the small council after her sharingan awakened and the throne accepted her. Of course her father opposed it, but Indra’s acknowledgement and Madara’s persuasion moved him. She hadn’t earned her own sword, but she could train with the wooden ones for now. Madara said her swordsmanship was getting better and better every day.

The approaching clip-clop cut her musings. A carriage pulled by four horses entered the garden. Its paints reminded her of forests and moss. The vajra emblem was carved on its door, which was promptly opened when it stopped before the royal family.

Lord Senju Butsuma stepped down first, and her father rose to greet him. A girl followed suit, draped in light colored coat for early autumn air. Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders like dark waterfalls. Madara was already beside the carriage, offering his hand to her. Her sweet smile was infectious to him.

Izuna almost didn’t see the lean, snow-haired boy that stepped down the last. He ducked behind his father and sister, his greeting to the king solemn and short. The boy completely ignored the crown prince, and briefly locked his eyes with hers.

She pretended to see nobody.

* * *

 

 

 

“What are you looking at?”

The princess was upset and annoyed and angry. She was supposed to train her swordsmanship with her brother. But Madara preferred  _ to take a stroll around the palace garden with that witch so she can greet all the roses and daisies _ . Stupid activity. The Senju already have enough plants and flowers at home, why would she insist to see the flowers with her brother? He’s supposed to accompany her! Their teacher lost interest pretty quickly without Madara, so Izuna dismissed him within ten minutes. The moment he was gone, she grabbed their dulled swords and started hacking the straw dummy mercilessly, imagining it having Hashirama’s face. It’s barely two weeks, yet Izuna’s patience had evaporated.

Her outburst had attracted a very unwanted person to stop and stare.

Izuna’s snarl was received with a cold look on Senju Tobirama’s face. He held a tome to his chest, which at a glance she recognized as the Uchiha genealogy.

“You’re destroying the dummy,” he pointed out.

“Thanks for stating the obvious.”

Tobirama shook his head. “You’re destroying the dummy using the wrong way. You use the sword like you use a club.”

Izuna threw another dulled sword to his feet. “You think you can do better?”

He glanced from the weapon to her, then placed the tome safely away from the training equipment. His stance and grip were precisely calculated, he approached the dummy like he was facing an actual opponent. Shoulders pulled, back straight, sword fluidly cutting through the straw and leather bound—

_ Cutting? _

Izuna gaped. The training dummy was slashed in all five fatal points, as if he used an actual sword. Its edge was dulled for training! Her own dummy had been hacked messily, straws sticking out from the bounds. His dummy’s evenly cut head was neat. No single straw stuck out of place.

Her fist trembled. But before she could say something to the Senju boy, a voice interjected, “did you imbue the training sword with chakra?”

They both looked up. Two figures stared down at them from the upper floor’s balcony. She recognized her brother, and her eyes narrowed seeing Senju Hashirama stood close to him.

“I did,” Tobirama replied curtly.

“The samurai chief taught him when he visited us for a few weeks,” she heard Hashirama adding. “Tobirama mastered it pretty quickly and used it often in training.”

“Impressive,” said Madara.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Izuna threw her own sword to the ground and ran towards the palace forest. Tears welled up on her eyes.

She decided that Tobirama was just as annoying as his sister.

* * *

 

 

“Do you think the eternal winter will return someday?”

Izuna looked up from her writings. She was summarizing each lands’ resources, mainly in farming and fishing sectors. Her scholar instructed it as a case study if a long winter would happen soon. Being in the small council, she got to access the latest reports from all over the Realm. Gathering the data was brief, so she spent her whole day in the library, enjoying the solitude to think and analyze. Until Lord Hoozuki’s sudden question, she didn’t stop at all.

Izuna placed her quill in the inkwell. She rubbed her hurting wrist, mentally scolding herself from forgetting to take a break. “Unlikely, sir. It’s been a thousand years.” The Realm had experienced several long winters that lasted up to half a year, but nothing more. Besides, the eternal winter is just a legend from the age of Elemental Lands. If it’s gone for a thousand years then it wouldn’t return at all.

Lord Hoozuki leaned at the window, gazing outside. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but...” he rubbed his graying beard, “two starfalls were seen around seventeen... eighteen years ago.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s just a flaming rock,” she stated, repeating what a scholar taught her once. “It did nothing unless it fell on someone’s house.” Starfalls were just flaming rocks that had escaped the sun, wandered in the sky before it fell. The minerals they contained were precious for sword forging.

His beard twitched in amusement. “The whole Realm would disagree with you.”

“You mean the whole people who pray to the Sage regularly.”

“Or that.” The Admiral nodded. “We—the people who pray regularly—took it as a bad omen. Both stars fell into the sea, thankfully, plus it was a late night rain. The winds were hard and merciless. Most people chose to stay indoor and lock their windows. Only five people saw them, including me. One is rare. Two— now that is something else.”

Izuna leaned her chin on her palm, trying to appear at least a little interested.

He counted with his gloved fingers. “Myself, two guards on duty, a woman who opened her door to fetch fresh water, and Lord Senju. Yes, the same man who’s just chosen to be the Emperor’s right hand. He had been staying in Kiri with his wife.”

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

“He asked us not to spread the news of the starfalls—instead, he rode non-stop to the Sage’s Sanctum once the storm ceased, seeking counsel from the grand sage. The only person he told about it was your father.”

“He believed it.” Izuna’s shoulders slumped. Her father prayed regularly, but more often to the Sage’s firstborn and the founder of the Realm. He always scolded her whenever she nodded off during a long chant. Really, her grandfather and his grandfather prayed long and often, until their knees darkened and hardened from kneeling on cold floor. But those eggs were still rock hard, and even the greatest fire they could conjure did nothing to melt them.

“He didn’t, at first.” Lord Hoozuki passed a book cart, sparing a glance on its only book, then stopped by her table. “I chose to remain silent. Your father and Lord Senju were soon distracted by other news—”

A shout came from two bookshelf rows away. Izuna recognized the elderly librarian’s high pitched voice, scolding another library guest for standing motionless like a ghost in a nook on  the wall. A thud, and a snow haired head rushed past the shelves until it disappeared through the large oaken doors across the library. Silence returned.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” He politely bowed to the princess. “Good afternoon.”

* * *

 

 

" You were eavesdropping.”

They were at the southwest hallway heading to the inner gardens, where the royal family usually dine together in private. Only families were allowed to join them there. Tonight they were going to dine with the three Senju. She didn’t like it at all, but it was her father’s wish. When Hikaku found out, there would be a fuss among the elders.

Izuna purposely waited at a corner, knowing that the boy was last seen in the study so he would use this hallway to reach the inner gardens. He held the genealogy tome closely to his richly embroidered tunic. She cut his greeting, but Senju Tobirama didn’t seem surprised.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep bringing that everywhere?” She nodded at the tome, ignoring his insincere apology.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about your ancestor,” he answered curtly. “Dragonchild, the second emperor.”

“What of him?”

“Why did he Unname himself?”

She rolled her eyes. “He grew tired of ruling, and Emperor Indra had passed of old age. The grief consumed him. He built the structure that would become the Sage’s Sanctum. Oh, and the throne too,” Izuna added. “Those are common knowledge, Tobirama. No need to ask me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think grief alone was enough for him to erase his name.”

“Try asking a scholar.” Izuna turned, but then her step halted.

“Don’t you think it’s strange? For a man as mighty as him, who united the Elemental Lands by himself, to drop his name because of grief?”

“You’re annoying and nosy.” She sulked.

“I’m merely curious.” He pushed through the subject, “do you think he really hatched from a dragon’s egg?”

Her sharingan flared. “You—”

“Children.”

They both turned towards the end of the hallway. Lord Senju’s wrinkled face stared at them disapprovingly. Tobirama muttered an apology, then walked past Izuna to the dining table. The princess followed a bit far behind, still bothered by their exchange.

Because she wasn’t the only one who doubted the legends.

* * *

 

 

As the crown princess, Izuna had certain responsibilities. She needed to maintain the public appearance of a warm royal family and upheld the tradition of Uchiha Dynasty. Believing in the Sage’s teachings was one of them.

Yet somehow, it was difficult. She constantly asked questions; to her father, to the sages, to the scholars. At first they took it as a joke, but Izuna asked and asked, even when she had awakened her sharingan, so they started to dismiss her questions. Since the scholars scolded her whenever she voiced her doubts, Izuna kept her curiosities within her family. Too bad Madara just didn’t care.

“It’s all in the past. Why bother?” he said when Izuna first asked him. “The Realm we’re going to lead is in the present and future.”

That left her with nobody to discuss with. Until she cornered Senju Tobirama in the hallway.

The dinner went horribly for the princess. Hashirama dominated the conversation, sharing humorous tales she heard from the peasants at home. Their fathers smiled and laughed appropriately. She had to admit she never saw her father this merry on the dining table, and she hated it. Madara listened intently, evoking Lord Hoozuki’s word in Izuna’s mind:  _ smitten. _

She shuddered.

“...And of course,” Hashirama held back her own laughter, wiping the tears on her eye, “when the village chief went to the shack, it was already full of fire geese. They chased him down the hills, past the houses, before he just dived himself into a river. The geese refused to leave until it was dark. No one—not even the onlookers went to help him!”

Of all the girls they had acquainted with, why did it have to be  _ her _ ? Why did she have to be so likeable, easily getting along with royals and peasants alike? Why couldn’t her brother choose someone else, other noblewoman, or even a distant cousin? Her Uchiha cousins had cried that Hashirama would mix the Usurper’s blood into the dragon line.

If glaring could burn, Izuna’s rice would be turned to ashes by now. She had been silent halfway through, only nodding if she was spoken to. Tobirama was silent as well, methodically eating with a constant pace. Her own appetite was gone after she finished the appetizer, a soup made of mixed vegetables and wild mushrooms from the palace forest sprinkled with imported spices from Myr. It warmed her stomach for the main menu, rice with honeyed chicken which she was fond of. Usually. 

“If you keep poking your chicken like that, it’ll return to life and escape your plate.”

Izuna lifted her face and pretended to laugh at Madara’s remarks.

“What do you think?” her father asked, which earned him a frown from her.

“Of what?”

“They will join you and Madara in your lessons.” It was clear to whom  _ they _ referred to. “The four of you can compare your knowledge.” He said this with a flat tone as if he was telling his children to behave.

She made a disgusted face. “... _ Why _ ?” she grimaced. Classes and lessons were her favorite, which she shared only with Madara and sometimes her cousins. Those were also her refuge from the two Senju’s presence. There’s no way in hell she’d gladly share them with… with—

“Izuna?”

Izuna pushed back her chair harshly. The creaking sound almost made a waiting maid dropped her tray. With one last glare towards the female Senju, she declared, “I don’t feel well tonight. I’ll be in my chamber.” She knocked over her water glass, ignoring her father’s call as she dashed upstairs to her chamber.

Once her door locked tight, Izuna allowed her tears to fall. Furiously she wiped it with her sleeves, kneeling to reach a box underneath her bed. Inside was an oval shaped stone larger than a human head, but heavier. She lifted it before her face, right when the last sunlight of the day penetrated through the stained glass. The rays pierced the greyed and scale-like surface, allowing her to see its actual golden color underneath.

The dragon egg still looked the same since it was presented to her crib fourteen years ago.

The Senju could hoard her classes. Izuna would seek a new scholar to study with. If not, she could continue her education alone. The library always welcomed her anyway. There were other teachers she could ask. She didn’t need them or anyone they brought into the palace.

Happy with these thoughts, Izuna curled on her bed without changing her attire. The egg was placed securely between her stomach and thighs. The last thing she saw before falling asleep was Aragunnir’s ruby-like eyes on her embroidery.

She dreamed of a golden dragon soaring to the midnight sky, herself on its back. The only thing that bothered her was that her hair wasn’t long or black anymore.

* * *

 

 

 

Izuna skipped her class on the next day. She finished the resource report early in the morning, left it at the study, then proceeded to steal a loaf of bread for breakfast. She had borrowed  _ The Birth of Dragons _ from the private library, intending to read it for the whole day. Her father and brother would have their breakfast alone, and she didn’t care in the slightest.

As within the palace ground she would encounter the Senju, either the siblings or their followers, she went into the forest. There was this spot right beside a creek that she frequented, hidden beneath lush bushes under a cypress tree. She set her book on a tree stump, propped up with stones and branches she gathered, and began reading while eating her bread. The lighting was dim on the forest floor, but it wasn’t a problem for someone with a sharingan. Her only companies were forest creatures and splashing water in the creek.

Izuna almost finished the first chapter when she felt a presence of chakra other than her own. She folded the cloth to cover her bread, shifting carefully to peek behind the bushes. Someone sat beside the creek, pulling out a makeshift trap made of twigs from the water. It’s empty, so the person returned it.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

She recognized Senju Tobirama’s voice, and to her surprise, didn’t feel as resentful as yesterday. The princess carefully stood, dusting her pants and book. “Morning,” she replied flatly.

Tobirama stood across the creek, dressed in brown attire fit for an outdoor activity. His gloved hand held a small knife, which he quickly sheathed back upon her presence. She suddenly reminded to her outburst during yesterday’s dinner, feeling the shame creeping up her cheeks. She directed her gaze upwards, to the patches of blue sky visible between the leaves.

“It’s… a nice day.”

“Mm.”

“What is it?”

Izuna held the book in front of her so the boy could read the title. “I haven’t finished the first chapter.”

He leaned forward a little, squinting under the dim light. “I don’t think we have one back home.”

She relaxed her arms. “Dragonlore isn’t a subject widely studied outside the palace.” She glanced at the trap lodged between smooth pebbles. “You’re catching fish…?”

“I’m trying to.”

The sun almost reached its zenith. Tobirama’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard amidst the splashing water. He fished out his still empty trap, throwing it from one hand to another before discarding it to a nearby bush. Poor boy.

It left her lips before she could stop it. “I need to ask you something.”

His eyes looked redder in the shadows as he motioned her to follow.

After fetching her half eaten bread, Izuna followed him to a clearing where he had set up a campfire. She saw no tent, only a small bag containing a book and what appeared to be eating utensils. Apparently he didn’t intend to stay for the night outside. He placed chopped vegetables into a small pot and boiled it. She cut off the parts she bite and offered him the rest of her bread, which he accepted with a thanks.

“What made you curious about Dragonchild?” she asked, finding a tree stump comfortable enough to sit down.

“He had the rinnegan,” he replied between bites. “Same with the Six Paths Sage. The rinnegan never reappeared in any of his descendants until today.”

“He was mothered by a dragon. He’s special. He called the Original Three as his siblings. Indra’s children.” Izuna patted the book on her lap. “That’s what this book said.”

“I knew it already,” he shrugged, stirring the pot. “The other day I asked the librarian about all the literature concerning him. Even asked five different scholars. The books told me nothing new, and the scholars said I should forget it. Legends aren’t meant to be questioned. But it’s been a thousand years….”

She knew too well of this feeling. The rejections. Insatiable curiosity she had to hide in the public. Maintaining the facade befitted their royal status. The strange hunch that all the lore they had been fed since birth was peppered with lies.

Finally, someone who shared her perils.

“The last scholar I went to said you also asked the same questions like mine. I was hoping you could help me.” Tobirama took the pot from the fire and poured half of its contents to an earthenware bowl. “Do you truly believe he was mothered by a dragon? Hatched from a dragon egg instead of birthed?”

“Impossible. Indra must had fathered him while he’s in the dragons’ den.” Izuna wiped her palms from the bread crumbs. “His other children had sharingan.”

“So we can assume that the Sage once hailed from the same place. Too bad the Hyuuga never divulges their own lore…” He offered the bowl to the princess. 

Izuna was confused, but did as manners dictated although her gratitude was left unspoken. The vegetable soup was warm and lightly seasoned. She watched some baby carrots floating in the broth, faintly smiling. When she looked up, she found the boy was staring at her. Tobirama quickly looked away, busying himself with another bowl of soup. The tip of his ear tinged red.

She sipped the broth, suddenly reminded to her own question. “Why did you eavesdrop us in the library?”

“I didn’t mean to, until I heard Lord Hoozuki told you about the starfalls.” He looked straight at her. “I remember Mother mentioned it to Father, a couple years ago. It was never recorded by the scholars.”

“Considering the weather and geography of Kiri Isles, I’m not surprised.”

He nodded. “I still wonder what that means. The palace back then was swept by the news of your mother’s pregnancy with Prince Madara. The Realm was abuzz, any other news was made insignificant by it.”

“There hadn’t been any bad stuff happened since then, so,” Izuna paused to chew a carrot, “the whole ‘starfall brings misfortune’ thing is just a superstition.”

The corner of his lips pulled upwards. “I knew you would agree with me.”

Izuna grinned.

Their chat soon turned to lighter topics; on his study, swordsmanship, and her knowledge of stray cats around the palace. She was glad he never mentioned her outburst at the dinner yesterday, or their siblings of that matter. Tobirama was quite knowledgeable on many things, and kept asking her about the subjects she knew best; one afternoon wasn’t enough to cover their curiosities so she asked him to continue their conversation tomorrow after breakfast.

And that night, when Izuna curled with her dragon egg in her bed, she decided perhaps pursuing a friendship with the Senju boy was worth it after all.


End file.
